what it says on the tin

SOME IMAGINES ARE NSFW AND TAGGED AS SUCH- PROCEED AT YOUR OWN RISK - submissions/requests welcome | inspired by @badlotrimagines | if you want to see if something has already been done or are browsing, check the badimagines library posts for an archived list

[badlesmisimagines]

BadImagines Library: Main Characters

This is replacing the old masterposts, for the sake of tidiness, but will still be tagged as a masterpost. I’ll be editing this, rather than adding new works in reblogs. There will be multiple library posts, because at the time of changing to this system I have 70 written imagines.

For more posts, see Les Amis and Misc. & Minor Characters

Victor Hugo 

You and Hugo Visit The Spot Where He Was Conceived

you have a valentine’s day seance

you listen to hugo and juliette Get it On

hugo shower curtain voyeurism (personal favourite)

you have a forehead fetish

you are going to hook up with vicky in the sewers

you help victor hugo fuck face his fears with an octopus fetish suit (another fave)

You Do The Dirty With Hugo’s Remains

victor hugo does asmr

SNEANCE TIME

beau brummell edition: victor hugo invents jeans

You Visit A Sewer Spa (Request)

You Have A Vision Of Hugo At The Euroshuttle Terminal

You’re Dante, Hugo’s Virgil and He’s About To Show You Inferno

Hugo Reveals The Symbolic Meaning Of The Sewers

Hugo fills the sewers with orbeez 

Hugo is your maths tutor 

You Read The Sewer Digression As Foreplay

Valjean 

you are a loaf of bread

you work at valjean’s factory

you are a student and petit picpus and valjean is your sugar daddy

valjean rescues you instead of marius from the barricades

Valjean Gets Holy (Our Daddy Who Art In Heaven - Request)

You are mistakenly identified as Valjean at the trial

You and Valjean Hit It Off At Cosette’s Wedding

Valjean Is Into Masochism 

Jet Anal Beads

Javert

javert tells you his first name

javert interrogates you

Javert Pet Play (Request)

Easter Special: Javert Died For The Sins That You’re About To Commit

Different Javerts Fight Over You (Request)

Javert Is A Criminal

You Meet Javert At YiffCon

You Punish Javert For Being A Spy

Wolf!Javert and Lamb!Y/N (Request)

Javert On Christmas Morning

Marius

The Bloody Baron takes you prisoner

you find the Bloody Baron at the barricade

You Compete For Marius’s Affections (And Play Upon His Weaknesses)

You And Marius Have A Threesome With Napoleon

Marius Is Still Thinking About Ursule

You Get A Nose Job

Bloody Baron AU: Marius and Montparnasse fight over you

100 Follower Special (NSFW): Hugo gives you wedding night advice

Theodule Follows You To The Graveyard (And Gets A Surprise)

(Inspired by the Lifehouse Production) Marius, the largest Ami, Simply Not Eat Absorb The Others?

[chrissystriped]

From the official Les Mis instagram.

Is it just me or is the placement of those arrows extremely unfortunate 😂😂😂

[badlesmisimagines]

nvm the glory of nardy's chandelier piercings has been restored twas merely a matter of changing the blog name in the link!

so glad you did find it! peace, love and nardy <3

[badlesmisimagines]

tried to find the nardy's tattoo and piercing parlour fic to weaponise against my friends and the masterpost link says that it is GONE 😱😱😱 where are the ficlets of the land...

so sorry that I didn't see this! yea i changed the url back to just badlesmisimagines (it used to have 'official' at the end, which I did as a joke and then couldn't change back lol) and i see from your other ask that you did find it

[segamascott]

[badlesmisimagines]

good lord guys

[badlesmisimagines]

also I was finally able to change back to plain ol' badlesmisimagines instead of having the official tacked onto the end (did it as a joke and then couldn't change back years ago lol)

[badlesmisimagines]

good lord guys

[piierogis]

Who is pictured on this Les Miserables cover art?

Fantine (wrong hair color as usual)

Jean Valjean (red prison shirt)

Javert (in his pyjamas)

Marius(' new coat with Marius inside it)

Enjolras (red and black)

Cosette (let a girl have some fun)

Eponine (these are rags)

Victor Hugo (yassified)

Gillenormand (that's just how he looks)

Bishop Myriel (that's his misspent youth)

Someone else?

Voting ended onFeb 1

[clowndyke-bar]

Thenardier on coke would be a hilarious horror to behold

[landmineblogging]

wait don't unfollow me yet i can make worse posts

[lesbianslugreaction]

Not now kitten, daddy's trying to drag his stupid fucking half-dead son-in-law through the sewers

[alicedrawslesmis]

funny I put my screen reader to read les mis letters just now and for some reason it skipped a couple words right. What it read to me was "The greater part of the wounded were able, and wished, to f-. On a litter of mattresses and trusses of straw in the kitchen, which had been converted into an ambulance"

[badlesmisimagines]

I didn't mean to rb that last post to this blog but i cba to retype the tags so here it shall stay

[sabertoothwalrus]

(said with the intonation of a YA novel) a plate of cheese and crackers

[sabertoothwalrus]

I fully dont remember posting this last night but I do remember eating cheese and crackers. blacked out and experienced cheese and cracker based clairvoiyance

[sabertoothwalrus]

[strangewomanlover-deactivated20]

[badlesmisimagines]

imagine: you visit the royal academy victor hugo exhibition

It is dark inside the gallery room, but not as cool as you had hoped. London is currently heaving and sticky—sort of like what you imagine it would feel like to be inside a rice cooker. All too aware of the warmth of other bodies, you pick your way carefully around the exhibit, your eyes landing on one dramatic ink picture after another. You’ve seen photos of his artwork before, but it hasn’t prepared you for the real thing. They seem alive somehow, the bold strokes and dusky ink washes imbuing each image with a sense of motion and energy. You have never seen art quite like it.

There is, of course, one thing in particular you have come for. After admiring the architectural sketches and the commanding castles you take a breath and step into the final part of the exhibition. 

The lighthouse is the first thing you see, directly opposite. You stand there for a moment, taking it all in, and then your gaze travels further around the room. And there it is.

You don’t make the conscious decision to move, but all the same your feet carry you forward until you’re standing directly in front of it. All the heat and quiet murmurs of the room fade away, until it is just you and the piece of artwork in front of you. Your eyes lock with the beady stare of the octopus.

A shiver runs down the back of your neck, and at the same time a bead of sweat races between your ample breasts. Despite the heat of the day you are suddenly cold, your floaty sundress no longer enough. You stare, transfixed, at the devil-fish, and you can’t help feeling that there is something familiar about its visage. Perhaps it is simply that you’ve seen photos of the drawing, only that is true of many of the illustrations and none have affected you this way. Perhaps it is something to do with the sinister, fixed stare of the creature—as though ready to wrap its tentacles around you.

Another shiver shakes your body, but of a very different sort. For some reason the thought of being engulfed in those lithe limbs makes your heart speed up, and a familiar heat flares between your legs. You can tell that you’re blushing and yet you can’t look away. And then it hits you.

It is the forehead that gives it away. Somehow the artist has captured both octopus anatomy and his own, and it is as much a self-portrait as it is a depiction of a hated thing. You can see it so clearly now, the spirit of Victor Hugo alive in the image—and you can feel the sensual power of his gaze.

Your body is suddenly hot again, but not in an unpleasant way. You can feel a sensation building, more intense the longer you look. You take a deep breath, and imagine those tendrils curling around you, holding you in place. Unbidden, your mind pictures one slimy sucker-coated tentacle lifting your skirt and sliding—

Your breath runs out of you in a shuddering gasp as a wave of intense pleasure rushes over you. You have to put out your hand to steady yourself against the wall, and when your vision clears you become self-conscious. Has anyone noticed? What on earth would they think? A quick glance around you reveals that the other visitors are absorbed. Relieved, you look back at the picture.

Something in the octopus’s gaze has steadied now. It’s no longer hungry. Instead it regards you almost thoughtfully, and you’re not sure if you can still sense Hugo’s presence or if this is the animal itself you’re dealing with now.

Either way, both of you know that this won’t be your last visit to the exhibition. 

[badlesmisimagines]

imagine: you visit the royal academy victor hugo exhibition

It is dark inside the gallery room, but not as cool as you had hoped. London is currently heaving and sticky—sort of like what you imagine it would feel like to be inside a rice cooker. All too aware of the warmth of other bodies, you pick your way carefully around the exhibit, your eyes landing on one dramatic ink picture after another. You’ve seen photos of his artwork before, but it hasn’t prepared you for the real thing. They seem alive somehow, the bold strokes and dusky ink washes imbuing each image with a sense of motion and energy. You have never seen art quite like it.

There is, of course, one thing in particular you have come for. After admiring the architectural sketches and the commanding castles you take a breath and step into the final part of the exhibition. 

The lighthouse is the first thing you see, directly opposite. You stand there for a moment, taking it all in, and then your gaze travels further around the room. And there it is.

You don’t make the conscious decision to move, but all the same your feet carry you forward until you’re standing directly in front of it. All the heat and quiet murmurs of the room fade away, until it is just you and the piece of artwork in front of you. Your eyes lock with the beady stare of the octopus.

A shiver runs down the back of your neck, and at the same time a bead of sweat races between your ample breasts. Despite the heat of the day you are suddenly cold, your floaty sundress no longer enough. You stare, transfixed, at the devil-fish, and you can’t help feeling that there is something familiar about its visage. Perhaps it is simply that you’ve seen photos of the drawing, only that is true of many of the illustrations and none have affected you this way. Perhaps it is something to do with the sinister, fixed stare of the creature—as though ready to wrap its tentacles around you.

Another shiver shakes your body, but of a very different sort. For some reason the thought of being engulfed in those lithe limbs makes your heart speed up, and a familiar heat flares between your legs. You can tell that you’re blushing and yet you can’t look away. And then it hits you.

It is the forehead that gives it away. Somehow the artist has captured both octopus anatomy and his own, and it is as much a self-portrait as it is a depiction of a hated thing. You can see it so clearly now, the spirit of Victor Hugo alive in the image—and you can feel the sensual power of his gaze.

Your body is suddenly hot again, but not in an unpleasant way. You can feel a sensation building, more intense the longer you look. You take a deep breath, and imagine those tendrils curling around you, holding you in place. Unbidden, your mind pictures one slimy sucker-coated tentacle lifting your skirt and sliding—

Your breath runs out of you in a shuddering gasp as a wave of intense pleasure rushes over you. You have to put out your hand to steady yourself against the wall, and when your vision clears you become self-conscious. Has anyone noticed? What on earth would they think? A quick glance around you reveals that the other visitors are absorbed. Relieved, you look back at the picture.

Something in the octopus’s gaze has steadied now. It’s no longer hungry. Instead it regards you almost thoughtfully, and you’re not sure if you can still sense Hugo’s presence or if this is the animal itself you’re dealing with now.

Either way, both of you know that this won’t be your last visit to the exhibition.